


All He Wanted

by ineswrites



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Muteness, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-02 07:16:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15791634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineswrites/pseuds/ineswrites
Summary: “I haven’t seen him talking to anyone,” Jack said, still watching the guy who was now wiping maple syrup off his fingers. “I think he might not have a mark.”“I know you grew up in Cesspit Hollow, Jack, but the outside world doesn’t work like that,” Clint said. “It’s more likely he’s just an ass.”He must have been right but… Jack had never met another person like himself. Maybe if he knew another markless, he wouldn’t feel so lonely.





	All He Wanted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kalika999 (kalika_999)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/gifts).



> Happy birthday! It's not them shotgunning weed and giving each other sloppy as fuck blow jobs but I hope it's ok, too? It's the idea I had that you encouraged me to write, way back.

It was quite late already when Jack entered the commons for breakfast. All the tables seemed to be taken, and he stood in the corner with a tray in his hands, looking around with a frown until a redheaded woman stood up and waved at him.

“Jack, over here!”

The tall guy sitting at the same table glared at her. “For fuck’s sake, Tash, it’s too early to be yelling.”

“Stop bitching and drink your coffee.”

Jack approached the table and set his tray down. Somehow, during his first days in S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy of Operations he managed to make friends, and he wasn’t even trying. It was Natasha who talked to him first and then introduced him to Clint. He was still a bit unused to people calling him over and wanting to spend time with him, and it was a nice change from being an outcast.

“How did it go yesterday?” Clint asked when Natasha sat back down. “Is he the one?”

Natasha shook her head, her lips pursed. “I’m starting to think I’ll sooner die than meet my soulmate…”

“Aw, don’t say that.”

Jack tuned them out. He had lived twenty years without a mark, but he still didn’t like to listen to people talk about their soulmates. It wasn’t even envy anymore—it brought back hurtful memories. People in his hometown thought the worst of him due to the common belief that only evil people were undeserving of a soulmate. Jack couldn’t argue with that logic—if things were different, he’d believe that, too. But he had never thought of himself as a bad person. Unfortunately, he hadn’t yet figured out the reason why he was denied a soulmate.

Not everyone had the same views as the people in the small town he grew up in. When he told Clint he didn’t have a mark, his new friend just shrugged and said that it happened. Natasha mentioned a friend she had in her country who just “wasn’t interested in these things”. As it was, Jack would have been interested if only he had been given a chance.

In an attempt to distract himself from both the conversation happening beside him and his train of thought, he looked around the commons until his gaze landed on a young man sitting alone a few tables away. He was eating pancakes with his head down, not looking beyond his plate. Jack had noticed him before; they had most of the classes together. He was always alone, and no one seemed to be interested in talking to him, for no apparent reason. He didn’t look odd like Creepy Gil from his hometown whom people shunned. No, he was quite handsome, actually, with thick black hair and sharp cheekbones.

“Hey,” he said to Natasha, who despite arriving just a couple of weeks ago, seemed to know everyone in the Academy already. “You’ve met this guy?”

Natasha turned around to look at the stranger, but unlike Jack expected, she shook her head.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I just haven’t.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t talk to  _everyone_.”

“You don’t?” Clint teased. “Maybe he’s the soulmate you’re looking for.”

She looked around again to give the guy a closer look. “He is my type,” she said.

“You have a type?” Clint continued his teasing and got an elbow in the ribs for his trouble.

“I haven’t seen him talking to anyone,” Jack said, still watching the guy who was now wiping maple syrup off his fingers. “I think he might not have a mark.”

“I know you grew up in Cesspit Hollow, Jack, but the outside world doesn’t work like that,” Clint said. “It’s more likely he’s just an ass.”

He must have been right but… Jack had never met another person like himself. Maybe if he knew another markless, he wouldn’t feel so lonely.

Natasha gave him an understanding, sad look that he didn’t like. “Why won’t you talk to him if you’re so curious?”

Jack watched him stand up with the now empty tray in his hands and walk away. Natasha was right, but Jack still felt wary of other people; it wasn't something that could be fixed in a span of two weeks.

They finished breakfast, small-talking, and made their way towards the lecture hall where their first class of the day took place. There was a small crowd of people waiting on the corridor already. There were many more people in their year, but most of them decided to skip the theoretical classes. According to Natasha, those were the first people to flunk. Even if it wasn’t true, Jack thought theoretical classes were as important as the practical ones, even if more boring.

He was glad to see that the brunet from the commons was also there, standing a bit further away from the general crowd, his back leaning against the wall. No one approached him during the five or ten minutes of Jack discreetly observing him while pretending to listen to Natasha and Clint talk. For a moment, he was watching the crowd with a small smile on his face as if he was hoping for somebody to approach him and start a conversation; when nothing like that happened, he pulled a handful of papers out of his bag and started going through them—perhaps he was filing his notes.

Jack was still peering at him when their law professor arrived and let everybody in the hall. He took a turn to sit in the front while Natasha and Clint moved on further to the back of the room. Jack paused, watching a group of people take seats around the guy, but leaving the ones on his sides free. If Jack sat right beside him and introduced himself, what was the worst that could happen? He could refuse to talk to him. That was all. It wasn’t the end of the world—until two weeks ago, it was Jack’s everyday life.

Natasha noticed Jack was no longer beside her, listening to her talk, and turned around. She followed his line of sight and nodded, smiling encouragingly.

“Later,” he muttered to her and followed the stranger to the front row.

His heart was racing for some unexplained reason while he was edging his way along the line of seats. The guy didn’t look at him when he stopped at the seat beside him, so Jack cleared his throat to get his attention.

“Excuse me,” he said, and the guy looked up, bright hazel eyes watching him with alertness, “is it taken?”

He beamed and shook his head in response, so Jack took off his backpack and sat down. The guy was still watching him curiously, and it made Jack confident enough to introduce himself.

“I’m Jack.”

The guy pointed with his pen at the top of the paper placed on his writing tablet. There, in a round handwriting, was his name: Brock Rumlow.

And just like that, Jack made sense of the puzzle pieces.

“Oh,” he said in surprise, and signed, “ _I’m sorry, are you deaf?_ ”

Seeing this, Brock brightened up so much he could light up the whole room.

“ _No, just mute_ ,” he signed back.

The lecture started, so they didn’t say anything else. Brock kept glancing at Jack in between focusing on the professor and taking notes. It was making Jack nervous in a way nobody else’s attention did, and, in turn, he couldn’t concentrate on the lecture. He kept wondering if he looked good side-face, and if it was apparent that his hair needed a wash. He cursed himself for being lazy and not washing it the previous night. Then he worried if Brock could somehow tell he was markless—and, realistically, he knew he couldn’t, that the marks could be hidden in various places on the body, but, but.

He caught Brock looking at him again and smiled, and as Brock returned it, white teeth and crinkled corners of his eyes, Jack realized why his hands were all sweaty and his thoughts running miles a minute.

_He was attracted to Brock._

He looked away, gritting his teeth. In high school, he managed to be rational and keep himself from getting romantically interested in people. All it took was a sliver of hope someone else could be markless like him to wake him up from his emotional stupor. But now, he knew the reason nobody talked to Brock was most likely that they didn’t know sign language. Brock surely had a soulmate because everyone did. Everyone but Jack. It would be best if he forgot about him, but… It was impossible to un-notice how handsome he was, to stop his heart from going wild whenever he smiled.

The lecture ended, and the students started packing. Brock kept looking up from his bag to make sure Jack wouldn’t leave without him. Jack took less time packing, but he waited for him—he wanted to get to know him even if he couldn’t hope for anything more than friendship.

They left the hall and walked to their next class together. Brock turned out to be quite talkative once he found someone who could understand him, and witty, too—Jack found himself mostly listening and agreeing with his opinions about classes, or laughing along to his jokes. He was still nervous, unsure of what he could say, and he worried it made him seem like a boring person.

They were nearing the gym when Brock grabbed his wrist to catch his attention, and then nodded towards a narrow, rarely used corridor.

“What?” Jack asked.

Brock didn’t bother answering, just led the way, and Jack followed him curiously. Once they reached the middle of the corridor, Brock stopped, turned to face Jack and, beaming, pulled down his collar to expose his left collarbone. Just a glimpse was enough for Jack to identify a soulmark, and he wondered briefly why Brock would even show it to him before he read it.

 _Excuse me, is it taken?,_ in Jack’s characteristic scrawl.

Jack gaped. “But I—” and the realization dawned on him, “I don’t have one,” he finished hollowly, still staring at the mark. “Because you can’t speak.”

Brock simply nodded, fighting a grin, a grin Jack was slowly falling in love with. The corners of his own mouth began to rise.

There was no way it was a mistake; the sentence, the writing, even the lack of his own mark, everything fit. He had a soulmate. He always did. His greatest dream, that he thought was impossible to come true, just did.

“Well,” Jack said slowly, “do you wanna be my sparring partner?”

Brock nodded again, now shaking with silent laughter. His cheeks were slightly flushed from emotion, and Jack couldn’t tear his eyes away. He couldn’t wait to see Brock do more of that, trapped beneath him on the mats in the gym.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Have a great day! Love you.


End file.
